


You Do Count: Sherlolly Appreciation Week 2015 Fics

by LadySolitaire83



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Anderson is the Captain of the USS Sherlolly, Established Relationship, F/M, Fic Scene Remix, First Meetings, Fluff, Originally Posted on Tumblr, Romance, Romantic Fluff, Secret Relationship, Sherlolly - Freeform, mythea
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-01
Updated: 2015-03-07
Packaged: 2018-03-17 03:26:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,239
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3513554
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadySolitaire83/pseuds/LadySolitaire83
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A collection of fics written for Sherlolly Appreciation Week, which was held on 1 March to 7 March 2015. Each chapter contains a separate story.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Day 1: Their first meeting

**Author's Note:**

> As per usual, I own nothing. Everything belongs to Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, BBC, Steven Moffat, and Mark Gatiss. If I owned Sherlock and Molly Hooper, then there would be a lot more Sherlolly in the show. All mistakes are mine. Reviews and constructive criticism are welcome.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock and Molly's first meeting. A remix of the third scene of If You're Not the One.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rating: G
> 
> Characters: Sherlock Holmes, DI Greg Lestrade, Molly Hooper
> 
> I was inspired to rework the third scene from [If You’re Not the One](http://archiveofourown.org/works/2830604) for this post. I thought it was the best representation of my headcanon, so I just removed the soulmates AU bit and edited it some more. Hope you guys like it.

Sherlock leant back against the wall in the lift. He pressed his slightly trembling hands together and rested his chin on the tips of his fingers. Shutting his eyes, he organised the case facts in his mind palace.

His first case in six months, it involved a businessman, Mr Steele, who suddenly died in his home. According to Mrs Steele, the victim did not have any illnesses and never took recreational drugs. Anderson found no wounds or bruises on the body and no possible murder weapon at the crime scene.

He had deduced that the man was poisoned, most likely by his mistress, using cyanide. All he needed was proof. So he and DI Lestrade were now on their way to look at the body, which the latter had sent to Barts for a post-mortem. _I just wish the pathologists here were competent enough to reach the same conclusion as I did._

"Does Malcolm still work here?" he asked the silver-haired man.

Lestrade turned to him and shook his head, just as the DI’s text alert went off. “He had a stroke the day after you yelled at him. He’s still undergoing rehabilitation. He’s not expected to come back.” He paused as he typed on his phone. “You know, it took them a while to find a replacement.” He put the mobile back in his jacket pocket and turned to look Sherlock in the eye. “So please be gentle to the new pathologist. Let’s ease her into… well, your ways, all right?”

He rolled his eyes. “Fine.”

The lift doors opened, and the two men walked down the long and empty corridor. A faint but clearly female voice wafted out from the morgue.

"Is that her?" the consulting detective asked.

"Yes. Please, _please_ , don’t terrorise her, OK? She has a promising future here. And she’s really good, even if she’s young and looks delicate.”

"Young and delicate? Bit strange for someone who cuts up cadavers for a living, isn’t it?" he remarked as he opened the morgue doors.

He stopped in his tracks and watched the petite, light-brown-haired woman dictate her notes to the tape recorder in her hand. He listened to her voice and noted the confidence with which she delivered her observations. His gaze followed her left hand—the third finger of which was devoid of a ring, he observed—as she put the tape recorder down on the trolley and began putting the organs back into the body.

"The patient likely died of cyanide poisoning. Further toxicological analyses are required before cause of—"

"Wait," the consulting detective interrupted.

"Damn it! What did I just say?"

Ignoring Lestrade’s irritated tone, he strode towards the pathologist. He stopped within a few inches of the startled woman. “How did you determine that Mr Steele died of cyanide poisoning?”

"Sorry, wh-who are you?" She turned until she caught Lestrade’s eyes, prompting him to step forward and drag the taller man away until they were standing across from her.

"Sorry, Molly. He’s helping me out with Mr Steele’s ca—"

"What makes you think it’s the cause of death?" he interrupted the DI’s explanation.

The slight and delicate-looking woman stared at Sherlock for a few moments before lowering her gaze to the body on the slab. “W-well, his stomach smelt of bitter almond and contained what looks like pureed fruit or fruits. I’ll have to determine what fruits were in that smoothie and if there’s any poison in it. His blood was also bright deep red, sort of like a cherry, due to the increased venous haemoglobin oxygen saturation. Also, while his lungs were actually healthy, the pleurae showed signs of inflammation. I took samples of his blood, urine, brain tissue, et cetera. I still have to run tests, but cyanide poisoning is on top of the list for possible cause of death.” She chewed on her lower lip. “Er, why do you want to know? Are you a detective too?”

"I’m a consulting detective. I help out the police whenever they’re stumped—which is always." He turned a deaf ear to Lestrade’s groan of irritation but smiled at the pathologist’s tinkly giggle. "I also take on other sorts of cases, as long as they’re interesting."

Nodding, she resumed her work. “I see. Anyway, I’ll get started on the lab work for Mr Steele this afternoon.” She darted her eyes between the two men. “Unless, of course, you need the results soon.”

"It’s OK, Molly. Take your—"

"Could you, though?" He flashed the grin that he usually used for women. Judging by the way she stared at him, he would not be surprised if the new pathologist was already infatuated with him.

Her cheeks turned pink and she smiled. “Sure, of course. Anything for Scotland Yard.”

"Thank you, Molly. Did I get your name right?" he asked in a honeyed tone, smiling and slightly leaning forward to look into her eyes. _Brown_ , he noted. _And rapidly dilating._

She had just replaced the heart in the chest cavity when she offered him her hand. “Yes. I’m Dr Molly Hooper. Pleased to meet you.”

He nodded but did not shake her bloody, gloved hand. “Sherlock Holmes. Pleased to meet you too.” He grinned brightly at her. “Would you mind giving me your mobile phone number?”

She stared at Sherlock. “M-my phone number?” Colour rose to her cheeks and a shy smile formed on her lips. “Why do you want my number?”

"So I can get the lab results directly from you." Though taken aback by her disappointed frown, he shrugged it off. "I’d rather not waste my time going through Lestrade," he continued, ignoring the DI’s exasperated sigh.

"All right," she answered. Biting her lower lip, she peeled off her gloves and threw them in the yellow bin. Then she pulled out a business card from her breast pocket. "Here you go," she said as she handed it to Sherlock.

He thanked her as he committed her phone numbers to memory. “Oh, one more thing: do you happen to have any spare body parts?”

"Um, no, not at the moment," she said, wrinkling her forehead. "Even if I did, I can’t just give you body parts."

"Not even for science?" He gazed at her, hoping that the tender look in his eyes would melt her heart.

"No, sorry, not even for science," she maintained. "Do you boys need anything else?"

"I think I’ve got nearly everything I need. Do remember to text me once you’ve got Mr Steele’s lab results."

"Will do," she replied with a bright smile.

"Excellent. Thank you for your enormous help, Dr Hooper," he said, lowering his voice and winking at her.

"Anytime. But please call me Molly." She giggled nervously and blushed. "Everyone else does."

"Absolutely." Pulling his mobile out of his coat pocket, he gave her a nod. "Afternoon, Molly." He turned on his heels and strode away from the pathologist. "Come along, Lestrade," he said as he tapped away on his phone.

"Bye, Sherlock!" she called out just before the doors closed behind him.

He paid no attention to the noise coming from Lestrade’s mouth, while he composed a short message to Molly and waited for the lift. He replaced his phone in his pocket and turned to the DI. “What are you going on about?” he asked as the lift doors opened.

The older man took a deep breath and shook his head. “Nothing. What do you think of Molly?”

"Her accent indicates she grew up in the East Midlands, possibly Northamptonshire. She’s in her late 20s and unmarried. Cambridge-educated, thorough, and clever. Already, she seems more competent than all the other pathologists in this hospital." He smirked. "I think she’s going to be an invaluable asset to my work."

"Right. Do you think she’s pretty?"

He turned to the DI and furrowed his brows. “You aren’t thinking of being unfaithful to your wife, are you?”

"No, I’m not. I’m just curious, because you made a point to mention that she’s unmarried. Are you attracted to her?" Lestrade grinned and winked at him.

Sherlock rolled his eyes and sighed. “No, I’m not. You know I’m married to my work. To answer your question, she’s aesthetically pleasing. But I’m more fascinated with her cleverness and competence. I didn’t think the single bowl on the dish drainer would be relevant to the case. But it now is, due to Mr Steele’s stomach contents. Malcolm wouldn’t have noted that.”

"Come on, Malcolm wasn’t that bad. But you’re not attracted to Molly?"

"No, not at all. I do wonder if she could lend me some fingers for experimentation."

Lestrade shook his head and sighed. “Not unless your brother intervenes. But do you at least think her eyes are pretty?”

Sherlock groaned in annoyance. “No, I don’t,” he insisted. “Come on,” he said as he strode out of the lift. “We need to interrogate Mr Steele’s personal assistant.”


	2. Day 2: Established Sherlolly can’t keep their hands to themselves

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock and Molly can't keep their hands to themselves in the lab.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rating: T
> 
> Characters: Molly Hooper, Sherlock Holmes, DI Greg Lestrade, DS Sally Donovan, Phillip Anderson
> 
> Also for [Sherlockian_87](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Sherlockian_87/pseuds/Sherlockian_87), who was looking for fluffy fics that day.

"Stop it, Sherlock," Molly told him while removing his hands from her waist.

"But it’s been a few weeks since we spent a significant amount of time together," he grumbled as he kissed her cheek and placed his hands on her hips. "The cases that took me away from London required considerable time and concentration to solve. If not for the daily check-ins, we wouldn’t get to communicate at all." He took a deep breath before planting a kiss on top of her head. "Anyway, I’ve missed you."

"Aww, that’s so sweet!" she cooed, prompting him to roll his eyes. "I’ve missed you too. But I’m at work. My boss could see us."

He looked round the lab and smirked at her. “I don’t see anyone else here. Also, I locked the door while you were doing your paperwork. And your boss is too busy dealing with several scheduling conflicts, so I doubt he’ll––”

She stared at him and gasped. “Sherlock, what did you do?”

"Nothing, _darling_ ,” he replied, flashing her a mischievous grin.

Sighing, she shook her head and crossed her fingers. “Well, _I’m_ busy with the toxicological analysis for _your_ case. Don’t you want to catch the murderer?”

"We have time before the computer confirms the murderer’s identity." He began kissing the side of her neck amid her giggles. "You don’t have to monitor the screen, you know. It’ll beep once it’s complete."

"And how do you suggest we pass the time, Mr Holmes?" she asked in a sultry voice.

Sherlock pushed her collar aside and nipped at her shoulder. “We could go to your office or stay here in the lab to––oh, I don’t know––snog.”

Molly turned round to face him and stroked his chest through his burgundy dress shirt. “Just snog?”

He chuckled as he cupped her buttocks. “Well, we could snog first. Then we can move on to something infinitely better.”

She pulled his head down and kissed him in response.

He broke the kiss a minute later, turning her moans of pleasure into groans of disapproval. “Hang on.” He dragged a stool towards them and whirled round until he could sit. “Just one more second,” he whispered to the increasingly impatient pathologist. He made her stand between his legs and pulled her closer.

Grinning brightly, Molly placed her hands on Sherlock’s shoulders and bowed her head to kiss him. She felt the tip of his tongue nudge against her lips, so she gladly allowed him access. “I love you,” she whispered against his mouth in between kisses.

A few minutes later, the sound of Sherlock’s mobile ringing interrupted them. Annoyed, he pulled away from the flushed woman and pulled his phone out of his trouser pocket. He took the call and activated the speakerphone. “This better be _good_.”

"You just made Phillip a deliriously happy man."

They turned towards the door to see Anderson punching the air. They could hear him shout, “I knew it!” over and over. Meanwhile, Donovan and Lestrade stared back at the couple with a smirk and a thumb up, respectively.

He grabbed Molly’s arm when she moved to open the door. “What is Anderson doing here? What are you _all_ doing here?” he asked the DI.

"He’s been reinstated. And there’s been another murder. We were in the area, so we just came to get you," he explained. "Stop snogging your girlfriend for five minutes and come out here, so we can look at the bloody body. And I mean that literally." Lestrade ended the call and beckoned to the consulting detective.

Molly freed herself from Sherlock’s grasp and unlocked the door. “Sorry about that,” she said when she finally faced the detectives. “He’ll be out in a sec.” She frowned at the newly reinstated forensic scientist, who was tapping away on his phone and muttering something. “Is he all right?”

"He’s fine," answered Donovan. "He’s just too excited to find out that you two are _finally_ together.”

Sherlock joined Molly in the doorway. “What’s the matter with Anderson?” He had straightened his slightly rumpled clothing and had slipped into his Belstaff coat.

The DS exhaled and rolled her eyes. “One of his theories involves you laying a big kiss on your favourite pathologist’s lips after your jump from Barts rooftop. He’s been wanting you guys to get together ever since.”

Sherlock shared a look and a small smile with his significant other. He cleared his throat and turned to the detectives. “May we go now?”

Instead of answering, Lestrade started walking towards the lifts. Donovan followed him as she dragged Anderson, who wanted to take photographs, away from the couple.

"He’s not too far off from the truth," Molly remarked in a low voice.

"Yep. I bet you £20 he’s already posted on Twitter that we’re together." Sherlock winked at her, making her giggle.

"No, you’re probably right." She stood on her tiptoes and gave him a peck on the lips. "I’ll see you after the post-mortem for the new body?"

"Baker Street after your shift and after I’ve solved the case?"

She grinned brightly at him. “Absolutely.”


	3. Day 7: Free Choice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mycroft pays his little brother a visit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rating: T
> 
> Characters: Mycroft Holmes, Sherlock Holmes, Molly Hooper
> 
> I’ve been working on this fic for a while. I meant to post it as a ficlet in chat form, but I couldn’t finish the first draft. Until the day before I posted this on Tumblr. (Yay!) Also, there’s a little bit of Mythea in this.

Mycroft crossed his legs and glared at his brother. Sighing heavily, the former glanced at his watch. “Sherlock, I don’t have all day.”

The detective rolled his eyes. “Why? What coup are you planning today? Are you supposed to be rigging an election or something?” He lifted his left eyebrow. “You’re not behind the rise of racially motivated crimes and police brutality in America, are you?”

"I have nothing to do with what’s happening in America." He winced, as if disappointed with himself for answering his brother’s questions. He sat back and took a deep breath. "Miss Hooper has been frequenting this flat for several months."

"And?"

"And you have been seen in her building multiple times."

The detective sighed. “What’s your point, Mycroft? I’ve been to her flat before. I stayed with her for a few days after we faked my suicide, remember?” Smirking, he stared at his brother. “I thought you were the smart one? I cannot believe you haven’t figured it out.”

"You and Miss Hooper are romantically involved."

"There you go. Good morning, Mycroft." He picked up his laptop from the floor and set it on his lap.

"I thought you were married to your work? Wouldn’t Miss Hooper resent your devotion to solving puzzles?"

"No, because she understands the importance of my work. She’s also an integral part of my work." Taking his eyes off his older brother, he began typing up an email. "Why do you even care? My relationship with Molly Hooper is none of your business. Or do you _envy_ my romantic involvement?”

Mycroft took a deep breath and opened his mouth to respond. But, upon hearing noises behind him, he turned his head towards the kitchen instead. “Ah, good morning, Miss Hooper.”

Molly, whose fingers were wrapped round the doorknob, muttered something under her breath. She smiled and waved her free hand at the brothers. “Hello, Mycroft. How are you?”

"I am well, thank you." He glanced at his smirking brother. "I see you spent the night here. Has my little brother been treating you well?"

"W-what?" She glanced at the chuckling detective and blushed. "Y-yeah, yeah, he is. Thank you for asking." She lowered her gaze to her hand on the doorknob. "Sorry, Mycroft, I have to go. My shift starts in less than an hour. See you later, Sherlock."

Setting his laptop down on the floor, the smiling detective rose and strode towards the pathologist. He cupped her face and gave her a tender kiss on the lips. “Have a good day, all right?”

She smiled back and kissed him on the cheek. “You too, darling.” She craned her neck to look at Mycroft, who had risen from the armchair. “Bye, Mycroft!” She then swiftly bolted out of the flat.

"You’ve gone soft, little brother," he remarked before clearing his throat. "You can expect a call from Mummy this afternoon. Good morning." He picked up his umbrella and walked towards the sitting room exit.

The detective chuckled as his brother passed by. “I’ll be sure to tell Mother about your dalliance with Anthea when she calls. I think she’s going to be _thrilled_ once she hears that old Mycroft may give her a grandchild after all. As an added bonus, it’ll take the attention away from Molly and me.”

Mycroft turned round and gave the tiniest gasp. He quickly controlled his expression and glared at his brother. “I don’t know what you’re going on about. She’s nothing more than my personal assistant.”

"Oh?" he asked, raising his eyebrow. "So someone else gave her _fresh_ love bites before she came into my room to announce your arrival?”

His jaw dropped and his face turned crimson. “How did you––”

"She moved her hair aside, and I saw them. Hell, even Molly saw them. My God, you _really_ got into it, didn’t you?”

"Stop it, Sherlock," he warned.

"You rolled up the partition, right? Can’t risk even your most trusted driver seeing you––"

The most powerful man in Britain rolled his eyes and clenched his fists before stalking off.

"God, at least take her out to dinner!" he called after his brother.

Chuckling to himself, he sat back down and tapped out a message for Molly.

**Are you home yet? - SH**

He was reading his emails when his mobile chirped several minutes later.

> Sorry. I just took a quick shower. - xMolly
> 
> Your brother dropped me off. - xMolly

**Did he now? - SH**

> Yeah. He found out about us, didn’t he? - xMolly

**It took him months, but he figured it out. Your presence in the flat only confirmed it. - SH**

> I see. So, what’s next? - xMolly

**Expect my mother to grill us about our relationship during a meal at their house in Gloucester this weekend. - SH**

**Don’t be surprised if she mentions things like marriage or grandchildren. - SH**

> Just us and your parents? - xMolly

**Well, Mycroft might be there. - SH**

> Speaking of whom, what’s up with him? His face was red during the entire drive to my flat. And his text alert was going off the whole time! - xMolly

**Someone might be sending him amorous texts. - SH**

> Anthea? - xMolly

**Yes. Dinner at Angelo’s after your shift? - SH**

> Sure. - xMolly
> 
> Gotta go. Your brother’s driver is here to drop me off at Barts today. - xMolly

**I can hear Mrs Hudson talking to someone. Could be a client. I love you. - SH**

> I love you too. - xMolly


End file.
